Re:Zero - Starting Life in Another World as a Skeleton Chapter 190 190: Observation

Skele-Avarice concealed his form within the shadows, following silently behind the middle-aged man. As a Tier 6 Lich, this level of stealth was as effortless as breathing for him. He had fully expected the man to go straight to a target for revenge or to conspire in so dark, twisted plot. He anticipated a perfect murder, a display of humanity's ugliest side, about to unfold. This should have been the ironclad proof required for Skele-Lust to lose their wager.

Instead, the man's first stop was the Adventurer's Guild.

Avarice stood in the most inconspicuous corner of the guild hall, his soulfire pulsing quietly, watching as the man stopped before the quest board. The notices pinned to the board were all the lowest-tier tasks in Iron Fortress: cleaning slis from the sewers, hauling freight, scrubbing taverns, repairing walls... They were all dirty, grueling jobs with ager pay that no one else wanted to touch. The man stood before the board for a long ti, finally reaching out to tear off three quest slips.

Avarice's soulfire flickered. This guy... is he going to work manual labor?

For the rest of the day, Avarice drifted behind the man like an incorporeal ghost, watching him race through the corners of Iron Fortress like an tireless undead.

First, he went to a tavern to clean. The man knelt on the floor, holding a rag that had long lost its original color, scrubbing the floor stained with ale and vomit inch by inch. The tavern keeper, a fat dwarf standing behind the counter, chewed on roast at while shouting at the man. "That corner! Yes, that one, it's not clean yet!" "Under the table! Are you blind? Can't you see all those footprints?"

The man did not retort; he simply kept his head down, scrubbing with even more force. A drunken beastkin staggered by and stepped on the floor the man had just finished cleaning, leaving a massive, muddy footprint. The beastkin walked away without a second glance, humming a discordant tune. The man looked at the footprint, his movents pausing for a second, before he continued kneeling and scrubbing it away, over and over again.

After cleaning the tavern, he rushed without a mont's rest to the city gate. A batch of new goods was being unloaded, and they needed a large number of temporary porters. The man hoisted a sack heavier than his own body, running back and forth between the city gate and a distant warehouse. Sweat soon soaked his thin clothes, sticking them to his gaunt back. His steps began to falter, and he nearly fell several tis. Yet, he only gritted his teeth, repeating the process in silence—trip after trip.

In the afternoon, he went to the farmland outside the city walls to help a beastkin family harvest their mature crops. The afternoon sun baked the earth; there wasn't even a breeze in the air, leaving one dizzy and lightheaded. The sharp wheat stalks soon cut several tiny, bloody lacerations into the man's hands, but he felt nothing, continuing to swing the sickle chanically, never stopping.

Avarice floated in mid-air, watching quietly. He began to feel a sense of confusion. When this man bought that vial, there was clearly a sense of resolve in his eyes. But now? What was he doing? Working himself to death to earn money?

As the sky darkened, the man finally finished his day's work. He pulled a small cloth bag from his chest, containing his day's wages: five hundred copper coins, which equated to five silver coins. It was a small, heavy bag. The man squeezed the cloth bag, a look of exhaustion yet deep satisfaction on his face. Then, he didn't head ho; instead, he turned toward the Evernight Cathedral.

The cathedral doors were wide open, and the low sound of prayer drifted out. The man walked in, knelt before the statue, clasped his hands together, and closed his eyes. His lips moved, but the voice was too soft for Avarice to catch.

After the prayer, the man rose and walked to the cathedral's side dispensary. A young nun stood there, organizing vials on the shelves. "You again." The nun's face lit up with a gentle smile upon seeing the man.

The man scratched his head, feeling sheepish. "Yeah... sorry to trouble you again."

"It's no trouble at all. It's my job." The nun took a vial of diluted Erald's Respite from the shelf and placed it on the counter. "The usual?"

"Yes." The man nodded and began fishing for coins from his cloth bag. He counted slowly, carefully, stacking the copper coins on the counter one by one. When he reached the five-hundredth coin, he stopped. The bag was empty.

The man rummaged through his bag, patted his clothes, sweat breaking out on his forehead. "Um... I... I had... in the morning..." At that point, he realized the morning's earnings had already been used to buy that vial. He stamred for a long ti, flustered, his eyes filled with regret and panic.

The nun watched him silently, her smile unwavering. Suddenly, she pushed the vial of diluted Erald's Respite toward the man. "Congratulations. You are the ten-thousandth worshipper to pray here today. According to cathedral regulations, you are eligible for a half-price discount."

The man froze. "Re... really?"

"Of course." The nun smiled and nodded.

The man was so moved his hands shook. He hurriedly pulled out the remaining coins and placed them on the counter. "Thank you! Thank you so much!" He bowed several tis, then cradled the vial carefully and hurried out of the cathedral.

The nun watched his retreating figure, letting out a soft sigh. Then, she reached into her own pocket, pulled out five silver coins, and placed them into the donation box.

Avarice watched this, his soulfire flickering. He suddenly felt that this wager was not as simple as he had imagined.

After leaving the cathedral, the man did not head straight ho. He walked through the streets, very slowly. Passing the Evernight Mall, he stopped, standing before the display window, looking at the goods on exhibit. It was a set of brand-new clothes—a simple style, but the fabric looked very comfortable. The man stared at the clothes for a long ti, finally shaking his head and moving on.

Passing a bookstore, he stopped again. In the window sat several newly published audio-manga. The cover art was exquisite, and next to it was a sign reading 'Most Popular This Week.' A flicker of yearning appeared in the man's eyes. But soon, he shook his head and kept walking. Passing a raffle stall, he didn't even cast a second glance.

Avarice followed behind, growing more and more confused. What is this man doing? He was living in the most prosperous city in the Empire, surrounded by entertainnt and indulgence. Yet, he seed completely uninterested in any of it.

Finally, the man reached the edge of Iron Fortress. This was an old, cheap rental district. The houses here retained their warti appearance—mottled walls and tattered roofs. Although Punishnt Legion soldiers patrolled the area and public safety wasn't an issue, compared to everywhere else, it felt exceptionally desolate. Most people living here relied on Imperial welfare, doing little else.

The man walked into one of the most dilapidated houses and pushed open the door. The room was tiny; just one room. A bed, a table, a cabinet. That was all. A woman lay on the bed. Her complexion was pale, her body thin, covered by a thin blanket. Hearing the door open, the woman turned her head, a smile appearing on her face. "You're ho."

The man hurried to the bedside and handed her the vial of diluted Erald's Respite. "I'm ho." The woman took the potion, unscrewed the cap, and took a small sip. The potion's effects manifested quickly; her face regained a touch of color.

"Today... are you tired?" The woman asked softly. The man shook his head, a smile on his face. "Not tired, not tired at all. I went to a lot of places today and took on several tasks. There were so many people grabbing quests at the Adventurer's Guild, but I managed to snag three! The tavern owner was very nice; after I finished cleaning, he treated to a pint of ale. The foreman at the city gate was also quite good—he paid ten copper more than the others. And the beastkin brother at the farmlands said I was quick-handed and will look for next ti."

The man spoke with animation, as if the day had been effortless and pleasant. The woman listened quietly, the smile on her face growing gentler. "That's good."

"Oh, right, I went to the cathedral today, too," the man continued. "The nun said I was the ten-thousandth worshipper today, so the potion was half-price. We're really lucky."

The woman nodded. "Yes, we're really lucky."

The two chatted on, the man recounting everything he had seen on the street. He talked about how the Evernight Mall had new arrivals and how the clothes in the window were beautiful. He talked about how the audio-manga in the bookstore were popular, with lines stretching out into the street. He talked about how a dwarf won a grand prize at the raffle and jumped for joy. He spoke happily, as if those events had happened to him.

The woman listened, a smile constantly gracing her face.

Avarice floated outside the window, watching the scene inside through the tattered glass. His soulfire pulsed slower and slower. He suddenly realized: this man had never intended to use that potion to harm anyone. He had bought that potion for himself.

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